Book Keeper
by Dragonflyr
Summary: Over the years, some additions were made to the Red Boook that was kept by the Fairbairns of Westmarch. This is the first and greatest of these additions: a tale of forsaken wizards, lost dragons, bodiless Hellspawn, and of course, hobbits!
1. Prelude and The Book Keeper

A/N: This is my first attempt at a Lord of the Rings fanfic. I swore I wouldn't write another fanfic while I'm trying to write my book, but this idea is just not going away and I _must_ write it or go insane. I never knew how much research went into writing a LOTR fic, so please let me know if I get anything wrong and I will change it immediately. By the way, does anyone know what Frodo did with Sing at the end of _The Return of the King_? I'm assuming he gave it to Sam who then passed it to Elanor…but I honestly don't know. Anyway, please enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, magical items, and/or plot lines from _The Lord of the Rings_ or _The Hobbit_. They are the property of J. R. R. Tolkien and sadly not mine.

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_Prelude_

The Red Book, which details the history of the hobbits from Bilbo Baggins' grand adventure through the hobbits' role in the War of the Rings, was given to Elanor the Fair by Master Samwise before he departed for the Gray Havens. Elanor in turn took the book to Westmarch where it would be passed down through the generations of Fairbairns who, over the years, made several copies and later additions.

This is the story of the first and greatest of these additions: the adventures of the first Fairbairn to be Book Keeper. The last of Elanor and Fastred of Greenholm's children, he was named Maxburry after Fastred's great-grandfather. He was not strong of arms as his eldest brother Elfstan was, but was gentle of heart and had a kind nature. Being over twenty years Elfstan's junior, many had begun to doubt Elanor and Fastred would be blessed with a second child by the time of Maxburry's birth in 1475 (Shire Reckoning). Being so inept and disliking of fighting, it was seen as fitting that, upon his fifteenth birthday, he was given the honor of first Keeper of the Red Book of the Fairbairns.

_Chapter 1:_

_The Book Keeper_

(Westmarch, Shire. May 5, 1490 S.R.)

Maxburry Fairbairn sat silently on the edge of his bed, staring at the unopened leather-bound book on his desk: his birthday present. He couldn't explain it, but somehow, he was afraid of it. He had seen the Book many times before; held it, smelled its musty pages, been told the stories it contained, and read the stories himself. The Book had entranced him all throughout his childhood. Often, his grandfather Samwise would tell the stories logged in the book from heart (they were partially his stories after all). Samwise would never stop once he had started until he reached the very end. There were times as he told his tales when he laughed, times when he wept, and times when he would pause and take on a peculiar far off look and cease speaking for some time before continuing. Try as he might, Max could never leach those same emotions from the scrawled, near illegible print on the thick pages.

Max knew every word in the Book by heart, excluding a few Elvish songs and sayings that he did not fully understand. As a child he had wanted so badly to immerse himself in the Book, but now that he had been given just that duty the responsibility scared him.

Max was nothing like his praised older brother and he was well aware of it. Elfstan was tall, the tallest hobbit in Westmarch (Merry and Pippin holding the records for being tallest in all the Shire). He was also very talented with a sword and possessed a gracefulness with the blade that Max lacked and doubted he could ever achieve. Where Max was more inclined to lounge in the shade of a large tree and recite songs and stories, Elfstan was off to Gondor every other month and many other places besides. Most likely this was the very reason for Max's choosing as the Book Keeper. Max had always held a deep interest in the Book, but Elfstan had never been satisfied with books and stories. As he said, Elfstan was far more interested in "doing the doing myself than reading about some other bloke doing it."

Max's eyes rested on the Book once more. He had read and reread it many times, yet he always knew that he could never write in it. His own words and thoughts were inadequate and adding them would mar the beauty of it. "But that's just what I have to do now," he said quietly to himself, "there's just no two ways about it." Nodding to himself, he threw back the covers and climbed into his bed, blowing out the candle that lit his room and turning his back on the Book.

(xxx)

Elfstan Fairbairn rode hard towards the setting sun. He had hoped to reach home before nightfall, but that was rapidly becoming an impossibility. He had no fear of the dark and the things that may or may not lurk there, however he knew how his mother would worry. He had already broken his promise to arrive before his brother's birthday; he did not need to add to her anxiety by taking any longer in his homecoming than he could help.

As he passed the Marking Rock signaling that Westmarch was just three miles ahead, he blinked as a figure on the ground caught his eye. Pulling his horse to a stop he jumped down and slowly approached with one hand ready on the hilt of his sword. As he drew closer, he saw that it was a small white figure that had caught his attention. It was dressed in a long white gown that pooled around its still form, but that wasn't all that was white about this being: long waist-length hair as pure as freshly fallen snow lay fanned out on the ground and the skin too was pale and colorless. Noticing that there were no shoes on the being he took a closer look and immediately recognized the crumpled figure for what it was; a hobbit!

Blinking in shock, his hand immediately left his sword and he sprung forward to aid the fallen hobbit maiden. Couching by her side, he lifted her gently into his arms. He noticed at once that her face was drenched in sweat and her skin was burning to touch. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Deciding he must take her to Westmarch to be healed, he shifted her to carry her to his horse and in doing so moved the fabric of her star-light dress to reveal one pale shoulder. He froze and his face hardened at the sight of the dark mark. He hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment, then he quickly recovered the shoulder and took the maiden to his horse. With nimble fingers he lashed her limp form to his mount and then was off again towards home.

(xxx)

At first, Max stared blankly at his ceiling, wondering why he had woken. Then hushed voices met his ears and he quietly slipped out of bed. Following the voices, he soundlessly left his room and crept down the hall. Though he could not yet make out the words, he immediately recognized the deep voice that spoke them. Elfstan had returned. Max stopped just outside one of the many rooms that was usually designated for guests. Slim tendrils of light glowed under the door.

"You said you just found her?" It was his father's voice. Max furrowed his bow. Found who?

"She was collapsed by the Marking Rock," Elfstan answered. His voice was short and curt. Max wondered why he was so upset.

"I've never seen a girl quite like her before," Max heard his mother admit.

"I have," Elfstan replied, "Not a hobbit, but a man." A hobbit! Max's curiosity was beginning to eat away at him almost painfully. His brother had found an odd looking hobbit girl at the Marking Rock? What was going on? Resolving to find out, he reached out and grasped the door handle. The room fell silent as the door swung opened.

"Did we wake you, Maxie?" Elanor said apologetically. Max winced and felt himself blush.

"Don't call me that, Ma," he muttered, eyes falling on his elder brother. Elfstan returned his gaze but offered no verbal greeting. The staring contest continued for a few tense moments before Max found the strength to tear his gaze away and focus it on the bed behind his brother. There lay a girl who was indeed a hobbit, but unlike any hobbit Max had ever met. She was all in white; that is to say that everything from her skin to her hair to her travel-worn dress was bleached of all color. Her breathing was uneven and he could see beads of sweat dotting her brow. She appeared to be in pain.

"Who is she?" he asked simply, unable to look away from the strange girl. He thought absently that she must be about the same age as him.

"We don't know," Fastred supplied, "Elfstan found her on his way home." Max took a step closer to the bed, brow furrowing in concern.

"Is she going to be all right?" he inquired.

"Yes! Oh my yes," Elanor quickly assured him in a tone that said all too clearly that she really didn't know. An awkward silence fell over the room. Both parents shifted uncomfortably while Max stood unmoving and Elfstan cast a cold look over his shoulder at the girl.

"If there's nothing you need me for," Elfstan broke the silence, "I believe I will go get reacquainted with my bed."

"Of course, dear! Go! Get some sleep," Elanor practically shooed her eldest son out of the room. "Maxie," she said, turning to her other son. Max felt himself blush again but refrained from scolding his mother for using the pet name. "Max, dear, you should go on back to bed too."

"No, Ma," Max shook his head, turning back to his parents. He smiled gently at them. "You two should be the ones in bed. I'm far too awake now to find anymore sleep tonight. You go to bed. I'll watch her for a while." His parents exchanged glances.

"You're sure, dear?" Elanor asked.

"Yes Ma, go!" Max nodded fiercely. "Don't you worry, I'll keep her alive. And if anything at all comes up I'll come get you fast as I can, all right?" Elanor still appeared hesitant but Fastred returned his son's smile.

"All right then. I'm sure the Book Keeper can handle a little extra responsibility here and there. Good luck with that one," Fastred nodded towards the girl and then took his wife's arm and steered her out of the room.

"Good night, Maxburry," Elanor bade her son farewell.

"G'night, Ma," Max returned. The door shut and his smile faded. His father's words rung in his ears. _The Book Keeper_... Like it or not, that was indeed what Max was now, though the idea still bothered him. With a sigh he turned back to the girl. Pulling a chair from the desk he sat himself down by her bed and, finding a bowl of cool water that his mother had no doubt brought in earlier, he bathed her burning skin with a wet rag. When that was done his attention turned to staring at her once more.

Looking at the girl's face he felt certain that his earlier assumption was correct and she was in fact his own age. Her features were soft and, like his, in that awkward stage that was too sharp to be childlike and yet too gentle to be grown-up. As he continued to stare at the oddly colorless girl, he noticed something on her shoulder. The wide neck of her dress, stretched and torn in places, revealed an odd dark marking that starkly contrasted with her pale skin. Curiosity getting the better of him, he reached out and moved the fabric of her dress to uncover her shoulder.

"Um…please excuse this, miss," he apologized, though she couldn't hear it. He stared down at the Mark he had revealed. It was black and consisted of many swirling lines that crossed each other in strange patterns. Runes he had never seen before were scattered around the lines. He blinked in wonderment. As he stared he felt…well…he wasn't quite sure what he felt. It was an odd sensation, like a tingling in the very core of his being. It was ticklish and both hot and cold at the same time. He wasn't sure how, but he knew that the feeling was coming from the Mark on the girl's shoulder. Hesitantly, and without knowing why, he reached out and gently pressed his fingertips to the Mark.

Immediately the girl gasped and shot upright in the bed. Max uttered a startled cry and stumbled back, landing hard on his rear. The girl took several deep breaths, eyes wide and slightly panicked. She looked all around the room, fully taking in her surroundings, before finally focusing her attention on Max.

Max almost gasped when their eyes met. The girl's eyes were blood red. He suddenly thought of a rabbit he had seen once, white with red eyes. He had never imagined that a person could look like that.

"What did you do?" the girl demanded after a moment. Max suddenly blushed furiously, noticing that her shoulder was still uncovered.

"I…I'm sorry!" he stammered. "I meant no disrespect! I just…I saw that thing on your shoulder, you see, and I guess I let my curiosity get the better of me. I…I know I should have gotten your consent and all first, but…"

"What did you do?" she repeated more gently, pulling her dress up to cover her shoulder once more. Her hand lingered there for some time before she lowered it again.

"I only barely touched it. That's all! I swear!" he answered breathlessly. She looked at him and he wasn't sure of her expression.

"That's all?" she repeated.

"Yes! Yes, I swear it!" he gasped. Her gaze took on a look of astonishment.

"Who are you?" she asked, and then added, "Where am I?"

"My name is Max," he introduced himself as he stood up. He offered her a respectful bow. "Maxburry Fairbairn, at your service, and don't you worry miss, you're safe as can be now in Westmarch."

"Westmarch?" she questioned, looking confused.

"In the Shire," he replied, furrowing his brow slightly in confusion. Where was this girl from that she had never heard of Westmarch?

"The Shire!" she exclaimed. "Have I really come that far west?"

"Begging your pardon, miss," Max cut in, "but what is _your_ name?"

"Oh, of course, how rude of me," she amended. "I'm Elabelle, at your service."

"Elabelle," he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. "Did you come all this way all by yourself?"

"I…" she halted and quickly looked at the ground, "Yes." Max blinked at her troubled tone. Was she in some sort of trouble?

"Would…" he began slowly, choosing his words carefully, "would you like to tell me about it, Miss Elabelle?" Elabelle's head shot up and the blush that rose to her face as impossible to miss with her pale complexion.

"No 'Miss'!" she insisted forcefully, shaking her head. "Just Elabelle, just call me Elabelle." Her gaze dropped again and her hand rose to rest on her shoulder, over the Mark. "Someone…" she whispered after a moment, "someone very dear to me is in trouble and…and I'm not sure how…but I have to help him." It seemed to Max that she suddenly looked very lost and vulnerable.

"What's wrong with him, this person you have to help?" he asked quietly. She looked up at him and he was surprised to see tears in her wide, fearful crimson eyes.

"He…that is…it's bigger than just him…it is a problem that very soon might threaten everyone," she stumbled over her words. Max stared at her in confusion.

"I'm not sure I follow," he confessed.

"What I mean is—" she broke off with a sudden cry and jumped up in the bed, pressing herself back against the wall. Startled, Max turned to see what had frightened her so, expecting to find a mouse or spider to be the culprit. What he saw instead made his blood run cold as ice. A puddle of quicksilver was slowly seeping under the door and into the room. But what truly terrified him wasn't the sight, but the feel of it. As he had with the strange Mark on Elabelle's shoulder, Max felt an odd feeling deep inside him that he was sure was coming from the living puddle creeping towards them. The feeling was dark and all together unpleasant; really the only word for it was Evil.

"What…what is that?" he managed to gasp, stumbling backwards. His legs hit the side of the bed and he fell backwards onto it, never taking his eyes off the quicksilver puddle that was now fully in the room and moving ever closer.

"A Flash," Elabelle breathed. He glanced at her. "It must have followed me."

"Followed you from where!" he cried, unable to imagine the unspeakable conditions that would yield a creature such as the one they currently faced.

"Nevermind," she suddenly said, turning to him. Something akin to hope shone in her bloody eyes. "When you touched my Mark…" she began hesitantly, "Did you…._feel_ anything?" Max stared at her for a moment before nodding slightly. "And do you feel anything from the Flash now?" Max's eyes widened for a moment, wondering how she knew, but he nodded again.

"Why?" he managed to ask, finding it difficult to speak as his throat and mouth had gone completely dry. A sense of foreboding filled him with sudden unexplainable dread.

"I…I think you can kill it," Elabelle proposed quietly.

"What!" he shouted. "I…No! I can't! How could _I_ kill it? I don't even know what it is!"

"Just listen!" Elabelle yelled back. He looked at her incredulously, but waiting silently for her to explain. "All you have to do is say its true name and…and picture it dying in your head." He blinked at her stupidly. "It's easy," she assured him.

"Then you do it!" he suggested.

"I can't!" she replied. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to calm herself. "I can't do it, but I think you can. Say its true name, say Gelzorn, and imagine it breaking into a hundred tiny fragments of light." Max wanted to protest again but looked down and found that the Flash was nearly to the bed. He took a deep breath and then slowly let it out.

"All I gotta do," he said slowly, "is say 'Gelzorn,' right?"

"That's right," Elabelle nodded.

"And…and think about it…going off like a firework. And that's it?"

"That's it," Elabelle repeated. Max heaved a great sigh and focused his eyes on the quicksilver Flash. He tried to imagine it breaking into pieces and disappearing. He concentrated on the image. He felt something building inside of him, something warm and ticklish that smothered the Evil feel of the Flash. All doubt left him as the warmth spread through him and he was filled with sudden confidence. He felt as though he was detached from his body, and then his mouth opened beyond his control and he heard his voice utter one word: "Gelzorn!"

The puddle began to bubble and shrink in on itself. Then it burst outward and broke apart in an explosion of light and dissipated. Max was left feeling exhausted and breathing heavily, staring wide eyed at the spot where the Flash had just been. Turning, he saw Elabelle now sitting on the bed beside him, smiling warmly at him.

"I knew you could do it," she praised him. He stared at her for a moment, his face having gone every bit as pale as hers, then his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed onto the bed and knew no more. His last thought before he blacked out completely was of how just a few hours ago the idea of being Book Keeper had seemed the most frightening responsibility of his life, and that now it would be a welcomed trade.


	2. Evil Sleeps No More

A/N: All right, now don't I feel dumb and dyslexic. A very helpful reviewer pointed out to me that I'd been spelling Fairbairns incorrectly as Fairborns. I apologize…it was stupid of me not to realize that. But that's good, on the reviewer's part I mean. If anyone else finds any other boo-boos like that please let me know at once. As I said, I've never written a Lord of the Rings fanfic before so I'm still kind of feeling my way in the dark trying to figure out how to do this. (I swear I feel like I'm writing a research paper…) If I can ever get them out of the Shire I've got all kinds of fun stuff planned that I really hope you will all enjoy! Thanks again to that reviewer for pointing that out to me. (Also, maybe Maxburry isn't that hobbity a name, but I like it and I don't really think Elfstan is that hobbity a name either, so it works.)

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything except Max, Elabelle, and some Hellspawn (and trust me, you don't want the Hellspawn).

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_Chapter 2:_

_Evil Sleeps No More_

When Max came to his senses again he wasn't at all sure where he was. However, his memory soon recovered as a glance revealed the odd girl who had started all this frightening business. He groaned and shut his eyes again, forcing away unbidden images of the quicksilver thing that he had watched slither across the floor. He felt drained in a way he had never experienced before. It wasn't just physical fatigue, but a straining on his very soul. He wanted nothing more than to forget the events that had turned his world on its head and fall into the welcomed void of sleep; but more than what he wanted, he _needed_ answers.

Forcing himself up, he managed to struggle into a sitting position and pry opened his heavy eyelids once more. He blinked, becoming instantly more awake and alert as he found Elabelle staring at him wearing a strange expression that he couldn't quite place. Seeing she had been caught, she quickly averted her gaze and resumed the uncomfortable look that seemed her most common state of being.

"What?" he asked as he leaned back against the wall. She blushed and shook her head but he persisted and finally she sighed and glanced at him shyly.

"It's only…" she bit her lip and looked embarrassed, "I…I've never seen another like me before."¹ He gave her a confused look and she turned away to stare at the floor again.

"I'm not sure…you mean to say you've never seen another hobbit before?" he ventured to guess, wondering how that was even possible. She glanced up at him fleetingly once more before quickly nodding her head. He felt his eyes widen with shock and knew it was rude but couldn't stop himself. Who was this girl? Despite the flood of questions that threatened to break out of him, however, he recognized her familiar discomfort and decided it best to redirect their conversation instead.

"What exactly was that thing?" he asked quietly, "the Flash I mean." She looked up at him and he noted the tense, hard look that had come into her ruby eyes.

"That was a Hellspawn," she said simply. Max did not like the sound of that at all, but he did not interrupt. He recognized the look in her eyes now. It was the same look his grandfather Samwise used to get when he told his stories. Max knew from experience that the whole tale would be told in due time and not before.

"You've seen maps of Middle-Earth?" It was a rhetorical question but Max nodded anyway. "They all end at Mordor and the Rhûn even though you know in your gut, or perhaps in your heart, that there's still more to the east. They end because that land is uninhabitable by even the most foul of the monsters that ever crawled out of Mordor. Past Mordor and through Rhûn; that is the Forsaken Lands and it is the breeding ground for the Hellspawn.

"It was because of Sauron that those monsters stayed at home all these years. The Witch-King, for all his malevolence, did us some good after all. He kept the Hellspawn penned up back there, you see. They were afraid of him, more precisely afraid of being used by him. So they stayed put back there in the Forsaken Lands. But when Sauron fell, they had nothing left to keep them back there.

"I guess I should tell you more about the Hellspawn themselves. There are three types of Hellspawn: Flashes, Shades, and Mists. They live off souls of the living and grow stronger the more souls they devour. When they grow strong enough, they change; that is, a Flash becomes a Shade and a Shade becomes a Mist. The Hellspawn have no bodies of their own, so they must borrow those of other people to do their dirty work.

"Flashes are the weakest. You saw what they look like. They possess corpses or else those who are very close to death. The Shades are stronger. Shades look like shadows except that they are not cast by anything and don't fade or grow with the light. They can take the bodies of those who are sleeping or else those who are too weak-minded to keep them out. The worst are the Mists. Mists are just what they sound like: living fog. They possess people who can use magic, wizards and such. They use the magic somehow to get into people." At the mention of the Mists Elabelle's eyes had narrowed and by this point she was glaring at the bed sheets as though she might rip them to shreds any moment.

"How did you come to know so much about them?" Max asked.

"Master Toran told me," she answered automatically. Her eyes widened and she threw her hand up over her mouth like one who has just let some precious secret slip. When Max stared at her blankly, however, she visibly relaxed. Watching him closely, she began to talk again more slowly, gauging his reactions to her words. "Master Toran told me about the Hellspawn and how to kill them, 'Just in case,' he said. 'They're not creatures whose company you would relish,' he said, 'especially alone at night on a disserted road.' He…he taught me many magical things…though they're no use to me now." The last statement was almost too low for Max to hear but he did catch it. He remembered her saying something to that effect before, but she hurried on before he could ask.

"But you!" she suddenly cried, an odd light in her eyes as she beamed at him. He felt himself sink back against the wall a little more. "You can do magic every bit as good as I could at my best, even better! I would never have been able to kill a Flash on my first spell!"

"So…" he choked out, his mouth having gone suddenly dry, "that was a spell?"

"Of course! What did you think it was?" She gave him a lopsided smile which disappeared into an exasperated sigh as she realized more explaining was yet in order. "If you know something's name, you can control it, that's what Master Toran said. He said, 'Everything has a name in its own language. Fire has a name in the language of the fire; wind has a name in the language of the wind; and so on. If you know the name, you can manipulate the thing. That's what we common folk call a spell.' 'Gelzorn' is the name of the Flashes in the language of the Hellspawn. It's a horrible language. Just saying it leaves a bad taste in your mouth doesn't it?"

"Is your master a wizard?" Max heard himself ask. Elabelle looked at him for a moment and then laughed.

"No! Good heavens no! Well, when it comes down to it _I_ always thought of him that way, but he would just shake his head and say, 'No, little one, I am not nearly powerful enough to disserve such a title.' Master Toran is…a healer; a _gifted_ healer." Max stored that information away as another question swam to the forefront of his mind.

"You said that Flash was following you. Why would it do that?" Elabelle's expression immediately lost its humor. She gave him a serious and sad look as she spoke.

"This Mark on my shoulder," her hand unconsciously rose to it as she spoke, "it is very powerful magic. Indeed, if you had not sealed it I most likely would have ceased to draw breath some time ago now. When that happened, that Flash was going to use my body, for what I don't know and care not to imagine." There was silence for a long moment before her head, which had been angled at the ground after her previous confession, shot up again and she cursed.

"What a fool I am! What a damnable fool! What doom have I brought here with me?" she wailed, startling Max.

"Miss Elabelle, what is it?" Max tried to calm her.

"Those things, those demons, surely that one Flash wasn't the only one following me! And now look what I've gone and done! I've lead them right here! Gentle, innocent hobbits; I've put them all in such horrid danger!" She jumped up from the chair and started towards the door. "I can't stay here, not for another moment! And I'll remind you not to call me 'Miss,' thank you kindly!"

"Wait!" Max cried after her, "Where will you go?" She paused, and then turned to look at him thoughtfully. "North," she finally decided. "Well, it's really the only way _to_ go. If I remember where I'm at correctly, only the sea lies west. I came from the south so that's a no go (who knows how many Hellspawn are lying in wait that way), and east would only take them to the very heart of this place. North is the only option left."

"But you can't go alone!" Max put in, getting to his feet as well and drawing himself up to his full height, making him just slightly taller than her. "You said before that you can't fight them, what if they catch up with you again? Or suppose whatever in Middle-Earth I did to that thing on your shoulder wears off, what then? No! You can't go it alone!" Her eyes widened.

"What exactly are you saying?" she asked quietly, as though she already suspected the answer but did not quite believe it.

"I'm saying…" he trailed off and searched hopelessly for the right words, wondering if he even knew the answer to her question. "I'm saying that…whether you admit it or not…you need _someone_ with you." Remembering his father's words he felt suddenly inspired. "And…well, I carry a lot of weight around here, I have a lot of responsibilities, if you follow me. I never neglect any of my responsibilities, and tonight one of those responsibilities happens to be you!"

"What I'm trying to say," he concluded, "is that I'm coming with you, at least to see you safely well beyond the borders of the Shire. It's my duty." There was silence for a moment.

"No," she said definitely. Max nearly fell over at the unexpected refusal.

"What do you mean 'No'?" he cried.

"You have no reason to put yourself in danger for me. If you only knew me better you wouldn't even consider it. I can't let you do something so rash."

"I'm coming!" Max retorted. "I told you before, you can't go it alone! You'll be killed!"

"And what would you gain from dying with me?" she countered. She shook her head and continued, "No, I've given you no reason to help me."

"You've given me no reason not to either," he replied. As before when facing the Flash, he was suddenly filled with a warm feeling beyond his control, except that this time it wasn't magic. The feeling that flowed through him now was one he had read about in the Book many times. It was a _need_; a hunger for mountains, for clear cool rivers of distant lands, for dangers in the dark that are never enough to stop the determined traveler, _for adventure!_ In that moment he was surer of this one decision than he had been about anything before in his considerably short life. "I'm coming."

Elabelle tried to come up with some other argument to dissuade him, but could think of nothing. Finally, sensing that defeat was upon her, she sighed heavily. Looking up at him, she fixed him with a look that was both thankful and apologetic.

"I came west hoping to find someone to help me," she said quietly more to herself than to him, "but now that I have, I wish I hadn't." She paused, and then gave him a tired smile. "I expect you're exhausted in more ways than one after that Flash, but I think it best if we leave before the sun rises, if you are still sure you wish to leave."

"I'm sure!" he responded immediately. Walking passed her he opened the door and held a finger to his lips in silent warning to be quiet. They crept into the kitchen, Elabelle looking all around her in wonder the whole time. At first he thought it strange, but than it dawned on him that if she had never seen another hobbit she mustn't have ever seen a hobbit hole either, though he wasn't sure if that made it more or less strange.

He whispered for her to wait in the kitchen and then scurried off to his room, noting that the clock on the mantel read just past one in the morning. He grabbed two packs from a hall closet on the way to his room and, once inside, clumsily threw a messy bundle of clothes into one. Looking at the other, he thought of going to sneak clothes from his mother's room for Elabelle, but realized that that would be too risky and the dresses would be far too big for the thin, bleached hobbit anyway. Shrugging he tossed some more of his own clothes in the bag and made a mental note to apologize to her later for offering her only boy's clothes.

He was about to leave the room but stopped at the door. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Book on his desk. He hesitated, but made a quick decision and strode over to the desk. Taking a wrinkled shirt from his bag, he carefully wrapped the Book in it along with a quill and a tightly sealed bottle of ink. He stuffed it all into his bag before hurrying out of the room. He wasn't sure what lay ahead of him, but his gut told that it was just as worthy of being logged in the Book as the other stories there. Besides, what good was the Book Keeper without his Book?

¹ The Marking Rock is southeast of Westmarch and so Elfstan (and Elabelle) approached it going northwest. Traveling to Westmarch on that route, it is possible bypasses the Shire completely or at the very least a traveler might miss some of the more inhabited areas and not meet any hobbits (especially if they stick by the River Harfoot and then go through The Westwood). Elfstan came from this direction because he was returning from Gondor and passed through the Gap of Rohan and so was approaching Westmarch from the south.


End file.
